Drive On
by winteredspark
Summary: /"You don't love me?" Elena's voice has grown ever softer, sadder if possible. He chances a glance down at her brown eyes, regretting it when he catches the look she hasn't worn since Stefan was around to hold and protect her. How impossible./ Post S3, E3


**Drive On**

**- a oneshot -**

**My interpretation of what came after the last Delena scene in Season 3, Episode 3. I like how this came out, but your opinions and reviews are welcome. **

"Just drive."

Damon stares at her hazy sillouette, dimly registering the tremble in her voice that means she's trying not to cry. She's turned away from him, her face practically pasted to the window as she desperately studies the bar.

"You know, that won't bring him back," Damon says, his heart clenching uncomfortably at the cold look she gives him. "Are you-"

"Stop asking if I'm okay," Elena hisses, crossing her arms and making a choking sound as she notices the shadow that passes over one of the windows in the bar. It's only an outline, a familiar one with slightly tousled hair and a pointed nose.

"Fine then," Damon mutters, shifting into reverse. "You don't need to be a brat about it."

Elena tries to hit him, but he easily avoids her hand.

"_Me_, a brat?" She's glaring venemously at him by this point, and Damon tries not to be affected by the honest hurt in her voice. He tries to tell himself that all she's doing is shrieking in a shrilling tone at him, and he has no business feeling sorry for her.

"Yes, you," Damon says, rolling his eyes. He pulls the car out of the deserted lot, attempting to ignore the smears of blood decorating the hydrangea bushes by the entrance to the road. Stefan is so predictably stupid, just following after Klaus like a lost puppy and ignoring the scenes he's leaving behind.

"That's a bit hypocritical," Elena snaps. She turns her gaze back to the window, as if by staring hard enough she can bring the Stefan she knows back. Because right now, if she's honest about it, she _hates_ this Stefan who leaves a list of victims written on a wall, who drinks the blood of innocent people without thinking twice about it. There _has_ to be some good in him, or there's nothing to hope for.

"We have to bring him back, Damon," she whispers a second later, trying to calm herself down. She's taking all her frustration out on Damon, and it's not fair to him.

"Don't you think I'm trying to do that?" he spits.

"You're mad," Elena says, touching his cheek and sending a flurry of emotions through him.

He leans away from her hand, "Don't do that, Elena." His voice is sneering, harsh. "You act like I haven't been searching for my _dear brother_ at all, like I simply gave up on him."

"I'm sorry," she says, honestly meaning it. "I guess - I mean, I love him, Damon. I can't do this without him." Her eyes are shining with tears again, and she looks so heartbroken it's hard not to gather her in his arms and promise her that everything will be okay.

You know, except it's always been Stefan, and sometimes Damon thanks whatever deity there is that his brother is gone, that he gets a fair chance with the girl he loves. But she doesn't give a shit; she acts as if he's not here, as if all she has to do is snap her fingers and he'll appear like a servant. One of these days he's just going to walk off, just to prove that she can't wind him helplessly around her finger.

"You think I don't?" Damon wants to drag the words back, but it's too late. "You may love him, Elena, but he is _my_ brother."

He feels Elena's fingers curl around his a moment later, and he's too weak to pull away. Her thumb traces patterns on his skin, reminding him of the night he almost died, the night that they lost Stefan. His lips burn at the thought of her innocent kiss, and he scowls at the offending emotions. This is why he doesn't allow himself to get swept up at the thought of his brother's girlfriend, because all she ever does is play games with him. Elena acts like she loves him, but she turns back to Stefan at the very next opportunity, not bothering with another thought for the emotional wreckage she's inflicted on Damon.

"I've never heard you say that before," Elena says softly, leaning her head on his shoulder. Her hair winds its way down his chest, suffocating him.

"Well," Damon begins sardonically, "it's not something I readily admit."

She smiles sadly into his neck, "You never say you love me anymore. Afraid?"

Afraid of her response? _Of course_. Damon will never tell her that, because she's never understood the depth of his feelings for her. She may claim to tolerate him on occasion, but she'll never understand.

"Why would I be afraid of admitting something I don't feel?" Another lie, another day. It means nothing anymore.

Her fingers creep up, touching his cheek again. He can feel his skin growing warm under her touch, his thoughts unwilling returning to the night where she actually cared. _All she cares about is Stefan now_, Damon reminds himself.

"You don't love me?" Elena's voice has grown ever softer, sadder if possible. He chances a glance down at her brown eyes, regretting it a moment later when he catches the look in them, the look she hasn't worn since Stefan was around to hold her and promise her forever. It should be impossible that she could wear it now.

His head dips down, his lips nearly touching hers. It's hard to ignore the look in her eyes, the look making his heart feel warm for once, betraying him. It's hard to forget the times she's let him run his hands over her face, shivering as though his touch actually affected her. It's hard to ignore the burning in his bones as her free hand traces lines on his stomach, hips, those captivating eyes never leaving his. Elena doesn't mean her actions to be seductive, just a gesture of empathy, but they feel like so much more.

Damon's lips touch her ear, and Elena's breath hitches.

"You love my brother," he says, not at all in a whisper. She grimaces as his voice sends her eardrums ringing, but he's already pulling away.

"I know," Elena answers, trying to make her tone normal. She feels a little too flushed. Damn Damon and his sexiness.

"Why?" Damon cocks his head to the side as he navigates a left turn onto the single lane road heading towards the Salvator mansion. He meant to bring Elena home, having no intention of dealing with the little minx, but it seems he lost his mind.

"Because -" Elena hesitates, having not thought about it in awhile. "I love who he is as a person. He has his flaws, but he's sweet, takes care of me, he's handsome -" she trails off. "Did you love Andie?"

"No." Damon doesn't hesitate, though his heart throbs uncomfortably. He doesn't like talking about Andie, doesn't like thinking about how hard it was to hold her lifeless body in his arms. "At least you know Stefan will come back, one day." He gets out of the car, slamming the door behind him and wincing as it bends the metal.

"Maybe, maybe not." Damon turns to see Elena leaning against the car, eyes shimmering. She looks beautiful, even when the tears start spilling from her eyes, though he'd never tell her that.

"Elena, listen to me." He's by her side in a minute, ignoring the way she flinches. She hates it when he uses his vampire speed on her; it makes her feel insignificant in comparision. "Elena." Damon grips her face with tight fingers when she attempts to turn away. "Why can't you just cooperate?"

"He's not a monster, Damon," Elena whispers, pressing her lips into his right hand. She doesn't kiss him, just lies there as though she doesn't have the energy to move. "You're not a monster, either."

"Don't you think I know that?" Damon says, his voice raising up a notch. He pulls her into a hug, hating himself for giving into his emotional urges. But with the way she's snuggling into his chest, sighing contentedly as she continues to cry, he can't beat himself up for it for long. "I love you, Elena. We'll find him, okay?"

"Okay," Elena breathes, eyes sliding closed. "Never knew you had such a soft side, Damon." Her voice is practically non-existant, but his sensitive ears pick it up, and his heart gives a powerful jolt in his chest.

Damn her. Damn those eyes, with those eyes that speak words that cannot be.


End file.
